


The Hardest Words to Say

by capirony



Category: The Avengers (2012)
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, Alternate Universe - No Powers, Child Abuse, Drunk Howard is a mean Howard, Howard's A+ Parenting, M/M, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Protective Steve, Protectiveness, Sarah Rogers is too nice, abused Tony, like first chapter, relationship establishes early on, wip i think
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-01-13
Updated: 2013-02-06
Packaged: 2017-11-25 08:49:42
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 11,019
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/637150
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/capirony/pseuds/capirony
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Steve and Tony have been friends forever, or at least it felt that way, and it wasn't unknown to Steve that Tony's dad was a raging drunk who felt no compassion or care towards his own son.</p><p>Needless to say, Tony wound up at Steve's house beaten and bloody a lot, and Steve couldn't do anything about it but clean his friend up and tell him everything would be okay even though they both knew it wouldn't be. </p><p>Also, Steve has problems of his own relating to a traumatic incident when he was younger, but Tony doesn't need to know that.</p><p>Tony also doesn't need to know about the huge crush Steve's sporting for him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Movies, Kisses and Trust Issues

**Author's Note:**

> So, this is going to be a WIP. I think. I have a lot of it written out, but I don't know whether to call it done or not yet, so hence the unknowing on my part.
> 
> If you have trouble with child abuse, do not read this story as it revolves around Howard being a complete failure of a father and beating his son relentlessly. But (SPOILER) Steve does make things better, okay? I promise Tony does not suffer entirely the whole time.
> 
> And yes, it is a high school AU, but I'm mostly focusing on what happens off of school grounds and the school is just kind of the background focus because they're teenagers and they still have to go to school, no matter how much I hate writing school situations. 
> 
> Oh and (SPOILER) I'm sorry this first chapter is so cheesy... but they just had to get together really quick okay? It gets better I promise. Also plot happens later I think maybe probably we'll see.
> 
> Okay that's enough notes for now, enjoy!

"Hey, so, movie night?" Steve asked, hesitant because whereas Tony was the one to suggest these frequent movie nights, Steve wasn't so sure if it was his call to plan one or not. And on such short notice too, Tony would definitely say no. He chewed his lower lip as he closed his locker, shucking his stuffed backpack over his shoulder and turning to Tony expectantly. He loved movie nights. He hoped he hadn't asked at an inopportune time, and oh no, now he was feeling all nervous and self conscious and why did he ask? He should have just gone home like a good little boy and done his homework and then proceed to mope all weekend.

Tony closed his locker with a dignified slam (turning a few heads even though he slammed his locker literally _every day_ ), and then turned to Steve a smile tugging at his lips though so obviously, valiantly attempting to quell it. "Okay yeah sure. Yours or mine?"

Steve couldn't help but beam. He turned to face the smaller boy entirely, one hand gripping the strap of his backpack with more force than necissary, the other hand stuffed into his pants pocket, those being the only things keeping him from sweeping his best friend into a purely platonic man hug out of pure joy. "It doesn't matter to me."

Tony huffed a laugh, leading the way down the narrow hallway crowded with people due to damn lockers on all sides. "Okay, how about yours? Haven't done one there in a while." He looked up at Steve, and Steve couldn't place his emotion... usually he could with Tony, they'd been best friends for years, but right now? There were just some times Tony was too good at masking his emotions for his own good. "Do you want to invite everyone else?"

With a shrug Steve responded, "It uh-- It doesn't matter to me. I mean if you want them, or if I don't know..." he took a breath, sucking it in sharply before, "Ikindofjustwantittobeyouandme." came out all at once. He winced.

Steve hadn't realize he'd been staring at his feet until he felt a smaller shoulder bump into his bicep (Tony said he'd never get over how big Steve had gotten, Steve didn't even know how he'd gone from four foot skinny to six foot "hunk" as Tony liked to tease). "Sure," Tony said from beside him, a tone to his voice that Steve so desperately wished was fondness. Knowing Tony, it probably wasn't. He didn't do fond. He didn't. Did he?

They reached the parking lot. Tony lived farther way and was rich, so of course he owned the latest whatever car he had. Steve loved cars, but he couldn't tell you what the hell that sleek hot rod red foreign car was called for the life of him. Steve lived considerably closer (read: just around the corner, almost literally), so he walked, refusing every day a ride home from Tony. It would be a waste, you know? And he was not going to accept the offer just to ride in the car with gold leather interor. Nuh uh, no way. They said their goodbyes along with promises to see each other later tonight and then Tony was gone and Steve was stuck wondering when his love for his best friend turned into a very different kind of love.

\---

There was a knock on the door at eight thirty. Steve's mom was working the night shift at the hospital tonight, so she was sleeping now, probably going to wake up in the next few hours to get ready to leave. He'd been lounging around all afternoon and well into the evening, doing nothing and having a pretty good time doing so. He tidied his already clean room so they could watch the movie comfortably (on a tv that Steve never dreamed of owning even though Tony said that it was tiny and he could get him better. Steve didn't like taking things from Tony; he didn't need the loom of money to keep his friendship with Tony thriving). "Hey, Tony." Steve said with a relieved sort of fond smile that probably looked realy weird and no shut up he did not run to get the door. Not even a little.

Tony just smiled right back at him, not deterred by his weird attitude (was he always this weird, or?), shifting the contents in his arm, causing Steve to take notice who of course took some of the stuff. Junk food of all sorts littered the bags in his hands; pop, chips, candy, things wrapped in wrappers that looked so ugly and weird but smelled like vanilla and marshmallows and sugar. He couldn't help the look he gave Tony, raising his eyebrows, grinning at him, a small grin playing on his lips. "Really, Tony?" Tony held onto the bag that had DVDs by the dozen and a small DVD player (Steve wouldn't let Tony buy him one).

"Yes, yes, I'm unhealthy, I got it. Lets go inside where it's not cold for God's sake and watch some damn movies I'm freezing my ass off out here," He said and then proceeded to shuffle in, shutting the door behind him. Steve laughed, backing away to give him space, and no the light sprinkle of pink dusting the tip of his nose and his cheeks matching the tangled dark mop of hair on his head was not adorable and endearing and cute and oh Steve was so totally gone over his best friend. "Is there something on my face?" he sounded hesitant and Steve realized he'd been staring. Oh.

"Yes," Steve laughed, resisting the urge to kiss the dash of colour on his cheekbones, to ruffle his hair and help it look more tousled than messy. He turned away at Tony's indignified cry, "Oh but we have to be quiet for the first few hours. Mom's sleeping and she works tonight so..."

"Oh, okay." Tony said from behind him as they made the trek up to Steve's bedroom.

"Sorry--"

"No, don't be sorry, it's okay. Not like I'm gonna die from being quiet for a few hours. It's not gonna kill me--"

"I mean sorry I should have told you I just--"

"Stop apologizing, would you?"

Steve paused outside his doorway, giving Tony a look, "Sorry." he said again, this time a smile tugging at his lips. Tony smiled right back.

"You smart ass."

"Whatever."

They got in his room, and immediately things were dropped and organized. Steve's bed was in the corner of the room flush with two walls, and parallel to it on the other side of the room is where his dresser and TV were located. The tv was small, not tiny, just small. It was a sleek flat screen 37" Samsung TV that Tony had modded, fiddling with it until it was at peak perfection. The latest Stark TV rivaled it's new interface, he had told Steve proudly when he finished.

Tony got to work connecting the DVD player and TV and that wouldn't take him too long, obviously, so in the meantime Steve busied himself arranging the junk food oh the bedisde table, tucking his stuff away in the drawers and shoving the food on top. Everything fit perfectly and snugly. "I'm gonna go get some cups and stuff, I'll be right back," Steve said as he left the room, a grunt from Tony telling him that he had indeed heard him. Steve laughed down to the kitchen where he got napkins (Tony was messy) and plastic cups (though Tony would probably end up drinking from the 2L bottle anyways).

He was back upstairs in no time, pausing for a moment to take in the sight: Tony was draped across his bed flat on his back, knees over the edge of the bed with his feet still planted on the ground, arms spread eagle, one hand resting on Steve's pillow, the other stretching for the end of his bed. He was staring at the ceiling with a blank face. That kind of worried him, "Hey uh--" Tony jumped, arms folding into his chest, head flashing to Steve's direction. He didn't make any move to get up from laying down, though, and that made Steve laugh, "What are you doing?"

Tony grunted, "I'm making myself comfortable, thank you very much." One of his hands tightened in the sheet before he was suddenly rolling around, tangling himself in Steve's previously made bed. He was giggling, quietly though, as if he were laughing at himself, which knowing Tony he probably was, and Steve couldn't help but join in. Steve crawled onto the bed, dropping the things he had retrieved onto the table. Tony tried to free himself from the mess of blankets, but Steve only tied him up faster. Soon he was begging Steve to stop in between full blown bursts laughter and Steve didn't have the heart to go against his wishes. He collapsed down on the bed, sitting up with his back against the wall, the breathing, giggling heap of blankets that was Tony in a pile beside his leg, "That was so-- so unfair you-- you.. fucking bastard," he said between breaths.

Steve couldn't help but chuckle, patting the pile affectionately, "Whatever you say, Tones."

With one final chuckle, Tony freed himself, letting out a loud sigh before breathing in, "Oh finally _air_." He rolled over, planting his face onto Steve's thigh. He couldn't make out his face, but he could feel his smile. The mere thought sent the most glorious shivers up his spine. He patted Tony's hair and without being able to stop himself, let his fingers card through hair that before had been only slightly tangled but was now a full out mess. "Ow." Tony murmured against Steve's leg as Steve was working one of the more intricate knots and Steve's hand shot back as if it had been on fire.

"Oh, I'm sorry, I just, I didn't mean to-- I--"

"I didn't say stop," Tony said, unfazed as he reached back blindly, lazily, groping around for Steve's hand. Steve smiled, returning his hand to the silky strands, heart flopping around happily in his chest when Tony's hand fell onto his. They were both still for a moment and then Tony's hand tightened, "This is something, right? We're not just being friendly close, this is something. Isn't it? I mean, nevermind that's stupid, sorry I shouldn't have--"

"Yeah," Steve croaked out, his voice faltering because holy damn emotions, but he needed to say something, needed Tony to know this was happening. He wanted this happening. Tony wanted this happening? Steve needed a minute to take this all in, "Do you want it to be something?"

Tony shrugged against his leg, hand never leaving Steve's. Steve didn't make a move to leave the warm confines of Tony's hand on his, though. He could feel Tony's smile, small and secretive against his leg, and he smiled back, wishing he could kiss it, thrilled by the fact that maybe in the future he'd be able to. What with the way this conversation was going. Steve ignored his heart pounding mercilessly in his chest and instead, "'Cause I do."

He heard Tony take a sharp intake of breath, his hand squeezing Steve's in a way that was probably involuntary but then there was a knock on the door and Tony left Steve's hand, left him cold and wondering, contemplative and wanting more but unsure of how to get it. Steve cleared his throat, the faint blush on Tony's face doing something to his insides, "Yes?" Steve called, allowing his mom to open the door.

She gave them both a once over and boy it probably looked pretty fishy. Tony was all flushed, his hair sticking out at weird angles, Steve was probably blushing, too, and his hands were fisted together on his thighs. They were sitting really close and the blankets were a mess, tangled around Tony and well on their way to being on the floor. She gave Steve a smirk which Steve returned with wide eyes and a furrowed brow, trying to tell her without words not to say anything and not to assume anything. She laughed, "Just popping in to tell you I'm heading off to work now, sweetie." her voice smooth and soft to Steve's ears. Wait.

"I thought you were--"

"Debby called up as asked me to teach her and her daughter how to bake cakes a while back. She called back a few minutes ago and I thought tonight would be a good time, you know?" she waggled an eyebrow to which Tony scoffed and Steve let out an indignified "Mom!". "Well, just call me if you need anything, okay?"

"Okay Mom. Bye. Love you."

"Love you too, sweetie." And then she was gone, turning off the light and closing the door gently behind her as she left, leaving them in considerable darkness, save for the flicker of the tv as it played through the menu sequence over and over, the mute setting keeping the noises from their ears.

Tony and Steve sat in silence, listening to her fading footsteps, listening to keys jingle, listening to the door close, listening to a rumbly car start up and leave, listening to nothing. Steve had watched the door the entire time, feeling Tony's eyes on him roaming, wondering, confused. He turned to look at him, mouth open, ready to say something, anything, but when he turned around and saw hurt in Tony's eyes, well, all thought left him and words just tumbled out, "Oh no, Tony are you okay? What's wrong? What did I do? Tony? Tony, I--"

"Fuck. No, nothing. Not you. Let's watch a movie, yeah?" he held up a hand to Steve's chest, pushing Steve back against the wall as he got up to find the remote in the mess of blankets grumbling to himself. Steve would have laughed if he himself weren't so hurt.

Tony found the remote with a triumphant "ah ha!" before promptly settling down beside Steve (they weren't touching, not even their legs or shoulders). He pulled the blankets back up, rolling himself up in one and throwing the other over Steve's head. Steve laughed, albiet clipped and stiff, but it was a laugh no less, and Tony returned it with a playful scoff of his own from the other side of the blanket, a scoff Steve didn't get to see.

Tony started the movie as Steve found his way to the surface and Steve just barely got to see the title of the movie before it played. It was called Titanium Man. A superhero movie. It was Tony's favorite, Steve knew, he had just been thrilled when it was finally released on DVD and bought the special edition during the midnight release, standing proudly in the front of the line. Steve could remember it, and it brought back a rush of fond memories. It was the first movie night ever, the one that during which they decided to make it a thing.

That had been four years ago. Back in grade nine. Now they were in grade twelve, almost graduated, almost adults. Neither of them would turn eighteen until after graduating, but they'd be done school. Tony would leave off to his dream school, MIT, and Steve would be stuck here not knowing what to do with his life. They didn't talk about it because leaving each other seemed too painful. It _was_ too painful. And they both knew it.

The movie started and they were both enthralled by it, like always. They usually watched different movies from all different eras, but sometimes when they'd had a rough day or something difficult was happening in their lives, they'd watch this one and life would seem okay for a while. Steve looked over at Tony who was watching intently, blanket rucked up around his chin, head tipped down, so he had to look slightly upwards to look at the screen. All Steve could think was adorable.

They watched it for a while, laughing when things were funny, quoting things they knew by heart, crying like tumblr fangirls when it seemed like all hope was lost for Titanium Man. By the end of the movie the tension in the room was gone and they were sitting flush against each other, save for the blankets in between them. Tony sighed when the end credits rolled, "Fuck, that movie is great."

"Yeah," Steve agreed, smiling contently. Now came the tough part, figuring out why Tony had chosen this movie first. It wasn't because of what happened earlier because he had already chose the movie then, so why? "So," he began, trying to make it as casual as possible. It usually worked, "What's wrong?"

Tony sighed again, this time sounding lost, hurt, defeated. He tucked his head into the blanket and Steve resisted the urge to stroke his hair. He could still feel it between his fingers, all silky smooth and soft and warm, and as much as he wanted to, there were just some boundries he didn't know should be crossed or not. "It's my Dad, Steve, I don't-- I don't know what--" his voice cracked, he sounded wrecked, he sounded like he'd thought about this for a long long time.

Tony and his Dad never really had a good relationship. Steve had long since lost count of the times Tony had showed up at his doorstep bruised with red rimmed eyes, wanting nothing more than someone to be there for him. Even though Tony had had girlfriends and other friends to go to, he always came to Steve and Steve always helped him. Steve would always help him. Steve shifted and in one fluid movement he had Tony under his arm, tucked up into him, Tony's head refusing to leave it's spot stuffed into the blanket. He could feel him trembling. "What did he do?" Steve asked quietly even though there was no one around who could hear him.

Tony took a shaky breath, leaning into Steve a bit more, but still too tense for Steve's liking, "I don't-- he just. It's nothing much, just grabbed me... tossed me around a bit. Didn't hit nothing that shows."

Steve inhaled sharply. He hated this as much as he hated it when Tony didn't tell him. He hated knowing what kind of things Tony's Dad did to him. It was sick and repulsive and Steve swore if his Dad did anything more than what he already did he was gonna call the cops. Not like that would do anything. Tony's family has more money than Steve could ever imagine. So he did what he could do; he held Tony close, he called Tony his friend. He dropped his head onto Tony's, breathing him in, taking a chance and wrapping his other arm around him as well, holding him close. Tony was crying and it was breaking Steve's heart.

"When you... when you asked me to have a movie night tonight I was so happy. He's been drinking more lately and I was pretty sure he was gonna drink himself fucking drunk tonight and I really didn't want to be over there. I don't want him to hit me anymore."

"I won't let him," Steve said almost instantly. He didn't need to think about what he was going to say, he already knows what he's going to say. This was scaring him, though, Tony had never _ever_ before admitted anything like this. Steve wasn't going to feel powerless anymore. "If you even _think_ he's gonna do something, you leave. I don't care if you just turn and leave, you just get out of there. You get in your car, you call me, you come to me. If you can't-- I'll come to you. I'll get you out of there. Okay?"

Tony was silent, his sobs breaking Steve's heart every time one slipped out of his carefully formed mask, "Okay," he whispered. A pause, a heartbeat and then more sure, "Okay."

Steve inhales, takes a chance, kisses Tony's hair. To Steve's surprise, Tony let out a whimper, soft and needy, leaning into Steve more, relaxing more into him. The credits play in the background, by this point completely forgotten by both of them.

Still holding onto Tony, Steve raised his hand to Tony's hair, stroking where his own head wasn't, loving the way Tony absoutely melted into him. He was murmuring words to Tony, probably things like "it's okay" and "I've got you now", but he couldn't be sure. And he didn't doubt Tony was holding onto every word, letting Steve talk him back into calmness. It was working, so Steve kept whispering to him without knowing what the hell he was saying.

By the time Tony looked up, the movie had long since returned to the DVD's main menu and had been automatically muted (Tony had set it to do that because he finds the music during the menu is absolutely annoying, to put it plainly). Steve had stop murmuring a while ago, opting to just run his fingers through Tony's hair soothingly, kissing his head every now and then, nuzzling against the soft locks. When he looked up, his eyes were just that tiny bit red, his bottom lip swollen from being chewed on and bit in efforts to hold back sobs that escaped anyway. Steve didn't think, his mind was too far gone, he leaned in and kissed Tony, his lips brushing the other's gently as to not hurt him any more than he was already hurting. Tony was still for a moment and Steve internally panicked, but then Tony responded, pushing against him a little harder, lips soft and smooth and delicate and firm and needy and hesitant all at the same time.

Steve didn't know how to handle it.

Tony tasted like mouth and coffee, up close like this Steve could smell his cologne but more importantly his natural scent of metal and oil and... was that coconut? It was beautiful. He probably looked beautiful, too, but Steve was too busy enjoying the kiss to bother opening his eyes. They kissed for a long time, hands exploring softly, gently, slowly, like anything could set the other off and then regrets and miscommunications and confusion would occur. They were cautious yet at the same time wanting so much more. Steve knew what he wanted and he could sense Tony wanted it too, but now was not the time and they both knew it.

Steve leaned against Tony, pushing him down onto his bed, his head landing perfectly on Steve's pillow. Tony made a grunt as he hit the bed a little more forcefully than Steve had wanted him to, but it got him down and oh, that angle was nice. Their mouths slotted together perfectly, sliding effortlessly as if they were made to do this and this alone. Tongues swiped at each other lazily, teeth nipping the bare minimum on Steve's part because Tony's lip probably couldn't take much more before it burst. This was easy, this was good, this was something Steve had been dreaming about for a long time, longer than he'd like to admit, to be honest.

Tony's arms wound around his neck, hauling him closer, Steve's hands on the bed on either side of Tony's chest, effectively holding himself up. Tony was crying again but it was okay, Steve would make it all better, Steve would make sure everything worked out to be good. He'd do it for Tony.

When kisses finally turned into presses of lips, lazy brushing, and then into breaths simply being shared, Steve watched Tony with equally lazy eyes, half lidded, content. Brown eyes searched blue, their gaze locked, holding steady, searching for something they just couldn't grasp. Steve smiled, pressing a kiss to Tony's nose before settling down onto the small bed beside the other, turning to face him, pressing himself up along his side. He felt sleepy, dazed, and the look in Tony's eyes told him he was feeling the same way. Tony pulled the blankets that had ended up by their feet up around them as Steve turned off the tv before tossing the remote onto the floor. The junk food was left forgotten on the bedside table.

Neither of them knew what to say and were probably both just too tired to say anything at all. Talking could happen in the morning. Right now they would relax, sleep in each others arms, spend a night happy and content, like the world wasn't hard, like they were actually both very happy people. Steve tucked his head into the crook of Tony's neck, nuzzling against the skin. Tony let out a sleepy whimper. "Ssh. Go to sleep. We can talk tomorrow." Steve assured Tony as much as himself.

"But, I--"

"Tony--"

"How long?" Tony blurted. Steve was confused, and Tony obviously noticed, "I mean, how long have you, you know. I mean you couldn't just all of a sudden decide to kiss me right then, right? You-- I don't.. you know what nevermind, I hate assuming things. I feel stupid."

"I don't know actually," Steve murmured against his skin. He felt him shiver, so he pulled the blanket around him more, tucking them in, surrounding themselves in their shared warmth and fighting the cold air together. "A long time. It just sort of happened."

Tony laughed, soft, sweet. He turned his head so his lips were pressed against Steve's forehead. Steve hummed happily as Tony said, "Me too. Just... happened. You were always just so you."

"What about all those girlfriends?" Steve asked, baffled, "You broke up with the last one what, two weeks ago?"

"I didn't think you liked me back, so whenever someone asked me out, I took the opportunity." he said quietly, like he was admitting to something much more serious than it actually was, something he felt guilty about, "If I had known everything would have been like this, I..." he trailed off, his voice caught in his throat.

"That's in the past now," Steve said because what else could he say? "Now this is happening and it's okay and good and well, I'd like to think it's more than that. It's amazing and wonderful and can this be a regular thing?"

"Yes. Please. I mean. More than just kissing and falling asleep, though, right?"

Steve laughed, "Yeah," he took a breath, "Everything."

"Okay," Tony murmured against Steve's head. Steve sighed, Tony yawned, "Okay. Now we can sleep. Talking over and done with for tonight."

Steve laughed, a puff of air against the warmest of skin, "Good night."

Tony's only response was to snuggle closer to the blonde, holding tighter as if loosening his grip would allow Steve to slip away. Steve wasn't going anywhere, not now that he had Tony.


	2. Might Take Time

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Steve told Tony to come to him whenever he thinks his Dad might be feeling a little destructive...
> 
> ...and all Steve can think one day while watching Tony limp into class is "why didn't he?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Shorter chapter I'm sorry in advance.  
> The next one is longer I think.  
> I would promise, but I honestly don't know.

Two weeks later and everything seemed fine. They were still as close as always, now with the added bonus of touching a little longer than before, of kissing, of hugging, of holding. They still acted the same towards each other, if not a little more fonder, a little more happier. Like all their welled up feelings could finally be released, yet they didn't know how much would or could be acceptable. 

Two weeks seemed like a long time for a while, but then Monday rolled around. The start of a new week. A new beginning, so to speak. Their conversation from that night came flooding back into Steve's head when Tony walked into class sporting a ugly bruise on his jawline, just under his ear and walking with a barely noticeable limp. The class was still busy talking among themselves, so no one noticed him among the other stream of kids filing in to first period. But Steve did. He always noticed. 

Tony took his spot at the back of the class as the seating arrangement told him to, and Steve cursed the fact he was so far away. He was downright pissed off. Could Tony not get out of there in time? Did he not want to call Steve? Did he think Steve was joking about the whole thing? Or maybe was Steve just jumping to conclusions and the injury was actually from a simple experiment gone wrong. With Tony, that could very well be possible but he wouldn't assume anything. He couldn't risk assumptions.

So, Steve fumed to himself all class and when Tony slipped out as soon as the bell rang and Steve lost him in the crowd of high schoolers, he fumed even more. He wouldn't see Tony until lunch and that pissed him right off.

\---

"I know what you're thinking and I'm gonna start off by telling you that you shouldn't be thinking that." Tony said just as Steve said, "What the hell, Tony, I thought we talked about this, why didn't you call me?"

They just stared at each other a moment before bursting out laughing. It was stupid, really, they shouldn't be laughing at something as serious as this, but the fact that they were both so predictable was just somehow hilarious and it was all they could do: laugh. 

They were standing in the front of the school, halfway through their stiff walk to Tony's car. They ended up not seeing each other at lunch (because, Steve would learn later, Tony was avoiding him trying to think up some excuse. He didn't think of anything, apparently), and had only met up now, after school, because Steve had gotten out of class early, got his stuff together and then stood by Tony's locker until he showed up to get his own stuff (Steve knew he had important tech and designs in his locker, things he couldn't leave the school without). They had then proceeded to walk awkwardly out the front doors, not speaking to each other until they were almost at his car and they both just turned to each other at once speaking at the same time.

That was also pretty funny and just fueled their laughter more.

When they finally calmed down, they made eye contact and something sort of clicked, something that said they would talk more when they were alone because yeah, that conversation was a little (a lot) sensitive and private. To both of them. 

So they drove to Steve's house. His mom would be asleep anyways, and as long as they stayed to the downstairs they wouldn't disturb her. They settled down on the old, worn yet strangely comfortable couch with a small first aid kit, their school bags discarded on the floor without a seconds thought. 

Tony started to speak as Steve was assessing the would, checking for any more damage as well.

"I was just tinkering with some of his designs," Tony said quietly, "Nothing really. I think he may have been drunk. I don't know. I didn't stick around long enough to tell." He shrugged when Steve paused, if only for a moment, "I did what you said. I left as soon as I realized something was up. But he, uh... As I was leaving-- Okay wait, let me start over.. so I was working on this phone prototype while fiddling with his schematics. And I didn't bother gathering them up as I left. And he was standing beside them and just kind of-- threw it at me. The phone." He paused at Steve's horrified look, his own face a look of passiveness though Steve could see the fear. He could practically feel it, "It hit me then shattered on the floor. So I left and I was about to call you, to get out of there, but by that time it was like, two in the morning and the thought of an indestructible phone and the most wonderful most plausible structural ideas hit me. So I ended up getting lost in that-- and the next thing I knew it was time for school."

Steve just stared at him with mixed feelings of horror and disbelief and amusement despite the situation, "So you're telling me you didn't call me because you had a new idea for an indestructible phone?"

"Yes." Tony said, completely serious, looking him straight in the eye.

Steve sighed, slumping against Tony, arms wrapping protectively around his waist, head falling onto his shoulder as he wondered whether to cry or laugh or yell. Tony's arms curled around his neck, holding him close, his nose tipping against Steve's ear. "You're gonna be the death of me."

Tony huffed out a sad laugh, "That's what you get."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is actually seriously embarrassingly short. I might just update with another chapter right after I post this one we'll see.


	3. Beaten

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tony gets hurt and Steve learns a thing or two.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Two updates in one day because the other chapter was small. Any mistakes are my fault because I didn't seriously proofread this one other than the millions of times I reread it on Wordpad so yeah.

"Mom, could you pass me the bag of apples, please? I'll get started on peeling 'em." 

"Who taught you to be such a gentleman?" Sarah Rogers said with a smile as she passed the plastic bag over to her son. Steve smiled in return.

"You, Mom." 

"Oh, that's right." She giggled, sounding much like those annoying kids in the hallways, yet from his mother it sounded like safety. 

She returned to the crust as he hummed along with the radio, the room smelling like a mixture of apples and cinnamon. They were on their third pie, making some for everyone that was close to them. It was a surprisingly large number, Steve thought. He honestly didn't know his Mom had so many friends. The kitchen was lit with bright lights, decorated with orange and red and yellow, soft classics floating through the air sounding like the best music ever though their age meant they lacked in quality. Steve would always prefer this music over that heavy metal crap Tony always listened to. 

He smiled at the thought of Tony; things were really looking up. He would come to school every now and then with bruises, nothing different than before, but sometimes during the night Steve would get calls of Tony crying to him with Steve telling him everything was going to be okay. Tony was opening up more to him, telling him more things, confiding in him more than ever. It was nice feeling needed like this. It was nice knowing he was helping someone.

Especially someone he loved.

They hadn't told each other yet, no, one and a half months was nothing in terms of relationships and they shouldn't be feeling love. But that's what it was; it was so much more than a simple crush. They'd known each other long enough and appreciated and respected each other to realize that yeah, this love was the next natural stage of their relationship. It was bound to happen. They were in love. But they wouldn't say so. Not now. Maybe Steve was scared, maybe it was Tony, but somehow they both knew it was love but neither would say so. Steve didn't know what to do, and he wouldn't dare bring it up with Tony. Better to enjoy the natural progression of the relationship, he thought.

"Honey, don't make the slices so thick, I told you already," she was smiling even as she said it.

Steve rolled his eyes, knowing when his mother was joking and when she wasn't far too easily, "You know I'm the best apple slicer in the world, Mom."

She laughed, "I know, I know, I'm just fooling."

Steve laughed along with her, not knowing what else to do and just doing it because it felt right. "I know." 

They chatted aimlessly as they finished off another pie and set it in the oven, starting to clean up because four Thanksgiving pies were enough for one night. The air outside was cold and crisp, yet November was being nice to them and sparing them snow for a change. It was the Wednesday before Thanksgiving and Steve's Mom had wanted to get a start on pies early this year because apparently they had a lot to do. Steve didn't think it would take that long if they just did it all at once, but his Mom believed in careful, love filled pie making, so each one was made so delicately, like a pane of glass that would simply break if not set down properly. Steve was about to collapse into one of the chairs around the dining table with his Mother when there was a rather hesitant knock at the door. Steve and Sarah exchanged equal looks of confusion before Steve left the room to go see who was knocking at this time of night. 

What he saw when he opened the door broke his heart.

Tony stood on the rickety old porch dressed in nothing but a tee shirt and jeans, socks the only thing on his feet. His hair was disheveled and messy, his cheeks and nose bright red no doubt from being out in the cold for a long amount of time. The night swirled behind him, dragging about leaves that refused to decay, the cold encasing them both, trapping them in a moment where their faces revealed fear panic and anger. The anger was mostly on Steve's part because hello huge bruise on Tony's forehead, an angry red mark that threatened to swell and close off one eye. There was a cut under the same eye, blood long since dried and crusty down his cheek. His eyes were undeniably red rimmed and there was definite tear stains down his cheeks.

That assessment took Steve less than a second to endure, but it still hurt ever fiber of his being.

After that second passed, he reached forward, pulling Tony up into his arms, away from the cold, away from the hurt, shutting the door closed behind them as he dragged a willing Tony inside. He held him for a second, trying to warm the shaking boy up as good as he could before letting him loose save for their linked hands and tugging him further away from the cold. When he passed the kitchen his Mother gave him a confused look that quickly became one of concern as she spotted Tony who kept his head down, hand clenched by his side (the one Steve wasn't holding, obviously). 

Steve brought Tony to his room because he couldn't think of anywhere warmer. He brought the small heater up to his bedside table, turning it on and shoving Tony (gently) down onto his bed, throwing blankets galore on top of him before stalking out to find his Mother. She was in the hallway, first aid kit in tow. Tony seemed to be visiting this specific kit a lot more than Steve liked.

"Is he okay?"

"I'm not sure." Steve was surprised by how broken his voice sounded. A seventeen year old shouldn't sound so old. 

"Do you want me to--"

"You know how he is around parental figures." Steve said apologetically. She nodded, handing him the kit almost regrettably. 

"You come get me if there's anything worse than cuts and bruises, do you hear me? And when he goes to sleep you come down and you tell me everything. If I need to call people about his parents I will. I don't care how much money they have. They cannot hurt someone like that. I don't care if it's their own son."

Steve could only nod, his breath rightfully taken away by her words. She noticed this and nodded back curtly before leaving Steve alone in the hall. He took a sharp intake of breath before going back into his room, the temperature already considerably warmer. 

"What the hell were you thinking." Steve said as he entered the room, shutting the door unkindly behind him. Tony didn't jump. That worried him. 

Tony had sat himself up while Steve was talking to his Mom, wrapping the blankets around himself like a caccoon (he says it's warmer that way, so that's how he always cuddles under Steve's blankets), sitting up close to the heater but not close enough for anything to catch on fire. His face was blank. That worried Steve, too.

"I was thinking my Dad was getting angry so it was time to leave. I was thinking I should get the fuck out of my house as fast as I could. I was thinking getting slammed to the floor wasn't the best thing for my head and it was definitely not fun. I was thinking that hey, maybe exploding experiments wasn't that good either, but things fuck up. I was thinking broken glass and alcohol all over the place wasn't a good thing. I was thinking that maybe I shouldn't have forgotten my phone or my shoes or my coat or my keys. I was thinking it was damn cold outside and I should get somewhere warm. I was thinking going back inside would definitely not be a good thing. I was thinking someone lived too far away. I was thinking someone told me it was okay to show up if I needed them. I was thinking I could trust you--" his voice broke at that last admission, the hurt so evident in his brown eyes, the betrayal killing him.

"Tony--" he fought off a sob. Steve squeezed his eyes shut, regulated his breathing, tried to concentrate on not running off to punch Mr. Stark in the face. "You know you can trust me." He breathed out, walked up to Tony, knelt in front of him. Tony sagged visibly and Steve fought the urge to just grab him and hold onto him forever, "I'm sorry I snapped-- I'm just.. /Tony/. This hurts me too. This makes me angry. I can't-- I don't like you getting hurt and it just makes me so so /angry/ that there's nothing I can do to stop it."

Tony let out a breath, one that trembled and shook as much as his body did. Steve lifted a hand to cup his face, his skin bitterly cold against Steve's palm. Tony leaned into the touch with a whimper and that was all it took for Steve to drop the first aid kit, unravel Tony as fast as he could and hold him. The blanket was still wrapped around most of him, sagging stiffly around his back and Steve left it there because Tony needed all the warmth he could get. He was /cold/. Cold nose that pressed against Steve's neck, cold cheek against Steve's jaw, cold fingers and forearms burrowing between their bodies, cold legs on either side of Steve's body. Steve wrapped one arm around Tony, rubbing his back and side and thigh and everywhere he could reach, the other one coming up to stroke though his cold hair (everything was so cold cold /cold/, and he couldn't think like that, not now, not when Tony needed him), his voice hushed as he whispered to Tony, words that meant nothing yet a tone that meant everything. Tony completely melted into him, practically begging him for warmth, asking for it with every fibre of his body. 

Steve couldn't believe he had walked all that way with just socks on his feet. 

"Steve," he whispered, so quietly, so afraid.

"Ssh. It's okay. I've got you now."

All he got was a whimper in response, so he kept talking because there was things he had to do. "I need to check for injuries, Tony."

"Don't let me go," he whispered.

"Tony, I don't want you more hurt than you are." He had said he was slammed to the ground. Who even did that. He needed to check. "Please."

Tony shifted closer for a moment before shuddering, backing away, his eyes still screwed shut, his arms still curled protectively over his chest. Steve gently touched his face, trailing light touches with just the tips of his fingers until he got to the purpling bruise that luckily refrained from swelling too much. Tony whimpered quietly as Steve prodded it, fingertips still light, watching his boyfriend's face for any signs of pain. Tony showed a lot of signs. He moved his hands away, trailing down his neck, around his shoulders, prodding, poking, but being gentle about it the whole time. He watched Tony's face, eyes never straying, fingertips going where Steve knew was acceptable. He found tender spots on mostly along his right side, so that indicated to Steve that he'd hit the ground on that side. He had a black and blue spot along his elbow, going up to the middle of his upper arm, painting his triceps with hideous reminders. Steve lifted Tony's shirt and sure enough there was an equally ugly bruise along the slightly jutting hipbone. One touch to his thigh told him there was probably a bruise forming along there, and his knee, and his calf and his ankle. Tony had probably been thrown down more than once or really hard once; bruises like that didn't just happen from being tossed to the side. "Shit." Steve cursed under his breath, teeth gritted, eyes shut, forcing himself not to do something stupid or punch the wall out or something.

Despite everything, Tony laughed, the sound a slightly harsher breath of air through his nose more than anything. "It must be a big deal if you're swearing."

"Tony, you're a big deal to me, I don't know how you haven't noticed that."

Tony gave him a blank look, though though the mask Steve could see him calculating, wondering, confused. "I'm not a big deal to anyone."

Steve sighed, taking Tony's still cold hands in his own and kissing them gently, holding them against his lips as he spoke, "You're an idiot if you think that."

"Uh, hello, genius here. Watch who you're calling a idiot."

Steve smiled, "You're an idiot genius."

"Hey, now that's mean." Tony sounded hurt, but when Steve looked up he was smiling so fondly down at Steve. It took his breath away. It didn't take long until Tony's smile faltered and he bit his lip, gaze averted.

"I'm sorry." Steve apologized, "You know I don't mean that literally, I--"

"I know. I know-- that's not.."

Steve waited, but it didn't seem like Tony would continue. That's okay, Steve could wait. He busied himself with cleaning the cut on Tony's cheek, getting rid of all that dried up blood before putting a small butterfly bandage on it to keep it from opening up again. He looked at Tony expectantly, but Tony just fidgeted under his gaze.

Steve smiled sadly, "How hard would it be to convince you to take of your clothes and let me inspect your bruises?" 

Tony guffawed, giving Steve a skeptical, sidelong look, "Is that a trick question?"

Steve smiled but said, "I'm serious, Tony."

"I guess you are." 

Steve moved to allow Tony to undress himself, his pants coming off first much to Steve's surprise. His boxers had little rainbows on them and Steve couldn't help but laugh. Tony just waved him off, fingers on the hem of his shirt, hesitating. Steve watched him carefully, watched the way his eyes flickered. Steve let his eyes wander, appreciating his adorable frame, gaze snagging on the almost-bruise along his thigh, spotting all the way down to his ankle. It looked a bit swollen down there, maybe it was twisted. When his eyes wandered back up at their leisurely pace, Tony's hands were shaking, still holding onto his shirt. "Tony?"

His head snapped up, "Uh, hey. Yeah, can I keep my shirt on? Feeling a bit chilly. Don't want to get any colder, I really don't--" 

Steve cut him off with a hand clamped over his mouth, standing up right in front of him, crowding him against nothing. "If you're worried about something, just tell me."

Tony looked at him and the fear there was unbearable. Steve let his hands drop to Tony's shirt, fingertips tracing down his chest and stomach before holding onto the hem on either sides of Tony's own hands. They were still for a moment, lost in the intensity of the situation and the glints in each others eyes. 

Tony had always been protective of his chest, ever since Steve had known him. He always wore a shirt when swimming, he'd always changed in a stall back when he did gym, he always lazed around with shirts on all throughout hot summers where Steve could barely keep his tank tops on. Steve never asked. Steve never needed to know.

Tony's eyes were calculating, cautious as he slowly dropped his hands. Steve took this as his que, lifting up the shirt, never breaking eye contact with Tony even as he raised his arms above his head, the shirt following because of Steve not far after. This was far more intense than it should have been. 

That was until Steve saw it. 

It wasn't anything big or ugly, nothing like Steve would have thought. It was a horribly scarred large sliver of skin going from just under his left nipple to his shoulder, stopping in line with his collarbone on the other side. Though to any eye (most likely to Tony's) it would probably be ugly, hideous even, but to Steve it looked beautiful. Like a story just waiting to be told. When Steve looked up to meet Tony's horrified eyes, Steve kissed him, pouring all his reassurances and love into the kiss, fingertips trailing along Tony's sides, slowly, oh so slowly running upwards closer to the scar. The kiss broke as Steve looked down, touching the edge of the scar with the pad of his thumb. Tony's breath hitched in his ear, his hands curling around Steve's hips, clutching onto him with an almost painful grip. "What happened?" he whispered. His voice sounded far too loud and the air was tight in his lungs.

"I was four," he said after a moment's consideration, "I was working in the shop with Dad when his experiment just blew up. I can't remember that far back, so I don't know the details, just that I got a lot of tiny chunks of metal in my chest and my Dad saved me with something he invented. It's embedded in my skin just under the middle of the scar--" He paused again as Steve's palm ran over it from one tip to the other.

"Does it hurt?"

"No. Not for as long as I can remember." 

How could a Father hurt his son baffled Steve in the first place. But how could a Father hurt a son he saved? 

Steve kissed him again, short and sweet before going ahead and examining his bruises, fixing up the few cuts and prodding at his swollen ankle like he said he would. He made a few jokes about Tony's boxers again just to make him embarrassed because God knows how many times he'd done the same to Steve before he let him get clothed in some of his sweat pants and a shirt. Tony absolutely swam in them, but he was warmer and he looked more content. Tony looked like he was about to pass out any minute.

"Come on, get back in bed, you go to sleep."

Tony did so, but he grumbled the whole way, "You're not gonna stay are you?"

Steve smiled a little sadly, "I gotta go talk to my Mom for a bit," he smoothed a hand down Tony's hair, curling it around his neck as he leaned over him, pressing their foreheads together. The heater hummed contently beside them.

They looked at each other, just looked, and then Tony nodded. "I'll wait then." Steve laughed before pressing a kiss to his nose.

"Sleep."

Tony pulled him down for a proper kiss, stealing his breath away, "Make me." he said when they parted. Steve smacked him playfully on the shoulder (the non bruised side, of course), and Tony laughed.

"Sleep."

And then he left the room, turning off the light as he went, ignoring Tony's whines of protest. 

His Mom was in the kitchen, putting away the last pie in the freezer as he walked in. He stood awkwardly for a moment, watching her. She closed the freezer, leaning onto it, looking older than she was. "I know what's going on between you two, you don't have to hide it you know."

Steve bristled, "We weren't hiding we were just waiting for the right time to--"

"Steve," she said. He shut up. "He's a good boy. I don't care that you like boys, especially if it's Tony. But I love him too, like he was my own son. I can't watch him get hurt like that."

Steve nodded, breaking eye contact, steadying his breathing because neither could he. He could feel himself getting angry again. "I don't know what to do." he confessed, sounding broken, sounding weak, hating himself for it.

"Oh Steve," she whispered, gathering her son up into a hug. Steve melted into her, needing this motherly comfort to give him hope in parenthood. Give him hope that not everyone's parents were like the Stark's. "We'll figure it out. Don't worry. I won't let him get hurt any more. We won't. Okay?" Steve nodded weakly in response, "Go back to him and hold him. Let him know he's loved, baby. He needs to know it."

Steve nodded again, releasing himself from his Mother. She gave him a questioning look, "He's all bruised up, but that's it this time. Cuts and scrapes, too. Nothing more."

"Good," she said, squeezing his shoulder, "Go."

When he got back into the room, the light was still off and he could hear Tony snoring lightly, the heater humming along with him. Steve slipped in, shutting the door behind him, sliding into the bed beside Tony as easily as he thought it would be. It was really warm under the blankets and Steve wouldn't have it any other way. He curled up next to the boy, soaking all of it in, holding him in his arms even as he stirred and turned around to face him. Tony looked at him with sleepy, curious eyes and all Steve could feel was the fear dancing around behind it all. His heart couldn't possibly break even more. 

"Go back to sleep." Steve whispered softly, stroking his hair. He needed to say it, to do what his Mother told him to do, to tell Tony what he needed to hear. And he wouldn't just be saying it because of those reasons; he felt it and Tony deserved to know that he actually felt that way. Tony's eyelids slid closed, his breathing deepening almost instantly and Steve lost his chance. So instead, he kissed his forehead, holding him close and willing his love to leak through to his actions, needing Tony to be able to feel the words he was too cowardly to say.


	4. Both of Us

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Steve has a problem... a problem that leads him to do weird things and act off and good lord Tony does not need to know about it, okay?

Things got considerably better after Thanksgiving. Tony started staying over at Steve's more often than not and neither of their parents asked about it; they just accepted it. Steve suspected Tony's father knew why Tony wasn't home, but he didn't try to change the things he did and in turn didn't try telling Tony he wasn't allowed to leave. The few days Tony did go to his own home he always came back to Steve sporting a bruise or two in addition to the ones he got while experimenting. 

So really, it was no surprise to Steve that Tony had figured it out. But that still didn't make things better.

It was no big deal, honestly. So what? He had nightmares, didn't everybody? Hell, Tony had nightmares sometimes. It shouldn't be this big of a deal.

"But when I have nightmares I don't wake up screaming," Tony said, his grip firm on Steve's wrist, making it apparent Steve wasn't going anywhere.

"That was only once," 

"And every other time you wake up with a fucking full body jerk and you have this lost look in your eyes and Jesus it scares the fuck out of me, Steve," his voice broke when he said Steve's name and Steve felt his composure slipping. "Tell me what's wrong so I can make it better."

Steve bristled, "Nothing's wrong, Tony."

"I didn't mean it like that, you know I didn't." 

Steve just stared at him, a completely blank look on his face before wrenching his hand out of Tony's grip and stalking away. It hurt, it hurt so bad. He couldn't face that hurt again, not like this, not when Tony could see. Tony didn't deserve to have that kind of baggage, too. He had enough of his own to carry.

And the worst part is that Tony hadn't even seen what Steve's worst nightmares can do to him.

They put the argument behind them for the rest of the evening,neither daring to bring up the topic again and they still sleep in the same bed together the next night. They didn't talk, just fell asleep in each other's arms, content to just hold because what else can they really do? It takes Steve longer than he'd like to to fall asleep and all he can think about as he watches Tony's sleeping face slack and peaceful with dreams tonight and not nightmares is the conversation, the problem. Steve's problem. 

He falls asleep thinking about ice.

Steve wakes up with a jolt and, oh no, tonight is a bad night. He's up and out of the warm, comfortable confines of Tony's arms and across the hall into the bathroom before he knows it. He leaves all the lights off because he only has one purpose, and he does it. The shower is turned on, water almost hot enough to scald pulsing down onto him. Steve curls up into a ball; he's shivering, everything's cold, he can't breathe, everyone is right there and no one can see him. He's so alone and cold and wet and freezing; he's freezing, he's--

"Steve?" 

Who's that? That voice isn't familiar. Maybe they're closer than everyone else. Maybe they can save him from the cold. He starts whimpering because he's under the water and he can't breathe. Talking doesn't work when you can't breathe. Screaming doesn't either. It's so cold and everything hurts, his chest hurts where he's inhaled water trying to scream, his back hurts where it hit the ice as he fell.

"Steve, baby, it's okay, nothing's gonna hurt you," That voice again. It's soothing, Steve decides. Vaguely in the back of his mind he can hear the running water being shut off, the soothing voice cursing, probably as he's scalded. "Fuck, Steve. It's okay, it's me, it's Tony,"

Steve's eyes snap open and suddenly he's back and everything is fine and he's in the bathroom in the shower and is everything actually fine? "Tony--" Steve chokes out, the grip on his knees violent, fingers digging painfully into his own flesh.

"Ssh, baby, it's me, it's okay. You're okay," Arms wrap around him, warm, so so warm, and Steve practically melts into that warmth, wanting nothing more than to drown in it.

Maybe if he drowns in this he'll stop drowning in /that/.

After Steve realizes his breathing is erratic, he breathes slowly, deliberately, matching his intake and outtake to Tony's breathing. It's easy doing that, but he knows that what's to come won't be so easy. One of Tony's hands rub circles into his back while the other cards through his wet hair. Steve might be whimpering, he doesn't know, but Tony's so warm and he feels so safe. Nothing can hurt him now. And now he should tell Tony but he doesn't know how, doesn't know if he can.

Steve nuzzles his nose into Tony's shoulder, biting his lip, trying to formulate the words in his brain into more sensical sentences.

"Tony-- I," he breathes out onto the now damp cloth on Tony's shoulder, Tony's motions falter for a moment but resume what they were doing as if they never stopped. 

"Ssh, you don't have to tell me," Tony whispers, "You don't have to tell me now."

So, he's expecting an explanation later, but will Steve be able to tell him later once he's calmed down and his mind has briefly forgotten it's struggles?

No, Steve decides, he really has to tell him. Right now. He'll push and run and avoid the question at all costs once he's in the right mindset and the only way this can be fair to Tony is if he tells him now.

He pulls back, holding Tony at arms length. Tony looks scared, but determined and Steve can only imagine what he himself looks like. Probably a mess of emotions, a mess of everything. "I need to tell you," he whispers, his voice catching on all the emotion, trembling uncontrollably.

"Then lets get you changed, yeah?" Tony says, tugging at Steve's sopping clothes. Steve nods, following bonelessly as Tony leads him back to his room. He moves where Tony pulls him, lets Tony be the one to change him. Once Steve is clothed and warm, Tony pushes him back onto the bed, tucking them both under the covers. They're spooning, Tony's chest pressed up to Steve's back. It's weird for Steve to be the little spoon; he's bigger than Tony so he naturally takes the other role, but he likes it like this. Likes the way Tony's arms are all around him, one curling possessively around his waist, the other pushing on his chest so he's close to Tony. Like this he feels safe, loved, and it's the best feeling ever. 

He lets out a breath after realizing he'd been holding it.

Tony's hands are smoothing across him, soothing motions that make Steve want to melt. Tony's lips are pressed to the back of his neck, just resting there, his breath soft and warm against Steve's skin. Steve takes another breath, "We were on a river. It was all frozen over so we were playing on it. I wasn't as fast as everyone else and fell behind and I--" he chokes, "I fell in. As scrawny as I was, I fell right through the damn ice," Tony makes a soothing noise behind him and Steve realizes he's crying. He continues despite it, "My feet were flat on the ground, but my head was just barely under the water. I could breathe if I tipped my head right but the river was rushing and I couldn't get enough air-- It was flowing really hard and it took all my energy just staying where I had fallen. No one noticed I fell. I was in there for hours, holding on to the ice for the life of me, tipping my head back to get enough air when it felt like I would pass out. My mom was the one who found me." Steve clutched one of Tony's hands, then, holding onto it, squeezing it, like if he let go he'd be in the ice. "Sometimes I wake up like that and I find myself in the bathroom. Like I'm trying to get warm and I can't. It hurts--"

"I know, baby," Tony whispers against Steve's neck and Steve cries harder because he knows Tony does.

When he wakes up again it's weird because he didn't register falling asleep, but Tony is still there, warm and solid against his back and everything is good. They're laying in the same way they had fallen asleep, save for their legs being a little more tangled together now. It's nice, like this, Steve decides, and he doesn't intend on moving. That is until the conversation from last night comes shooting back into his head like a shot from a pistol at point blank. It hurts all over again and he feels his heartbeat speed up, his breathing becoming erratic. He's clutching desperately at the blankets, wrenching them away from him and failing quite miserably, hands stilling only when they feel Tony's arms tighten. He stops everything, listening to the sound of Tony's breathing picking up, listening to him wake up. "It's okay, Steve," he whispers, his breath scalding Steve's neck, burning him. He can't decide if it's a good burn.

All he knows is that it hurts. And it's gonna kill him if Tony leaves him.

Now Tony knows he's broken, now Tony knows what kind of messed up things Steve can't help but do some times. Now that Tony knows, it'll be no time at all until Tony is leaving him for something better, something whole. "Tony," Steve whimpers and he hates how it sounds, hates how weak his voice sounds to his own ears. 

"Ssh, baby. Not going anywhere. You're okay."

Steve whimpers, high and long, his whole body trembling, "Hurts," he whispers, his voice stinging his throat. Tony's arms on him tighten and before he knows it, Tony's turning him around, arms wrapping him back up in them and the blankets. Steve does what he knows, he clutches to Tony's shirt, drags him close enough to press himself all along the familiar line of Tony, close enough to bury his face in the warm crook of his neck. He doesn't cry, but it's a close thing; his breathing is ragged and his heartbeat wont shut up, but Tony's making it better, "Don't leave me."

"Never. Never gonna leave you. I got you," Tony coos, his voice soft and gentle and fuck why is Steve the one being held? Steve tenses, ready to pull away, but Tony just holds him tighter.

Eventually Steve calms down, his whole body relaxing once he's got everything under control. Tony soothes him through it, talking to him in hushed tones, hands smoothing over every place they can, lips pressing against Steve's temple as he kisses his head in between words. 

It's only then that Steve realizes he just had a panic attack. 

"Don't be sorry, you asshole," Tony says and Steve doesn't recall apologizing out loud, but he wouldn't doubt it. His throat hurts and he probably sounds like a wreck.

"You shouldn't have to see me like this," he whispers back, Tony's skin blazing against his lips and it's good, it's so good.

"I should." Is all Tony says and that's the end of that.


End file.
